


The Sorta-Virgin Sacrifice

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out virginity is a state of mind and some demons aren't as picky as others. </p><p>Warning: while this is all humor with a side of snarkyDean angst, it picks up after Dean was almost raped by a demon. It didn't get further than a kiss before Sam killed it and nothing more than that is mentioned. But this is the aftermath of a demon-roofie attempt at noncon.</p><p>Posted to Live Journal April 7, 2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sorta-Virgin Sacrifice

  
**The Sorta-Virgin Sacrifice**  
By Anne Higgins

For one brief moment he knew perfection. Love, security, passion – it swirled around him in a blanket of light and warmth. Then it all vanished. The abrupt loss sent him reeling into dreams full of siren calls and loss. The uselessness of dreams so similar to his life quickly tired him and Dean Winchester forced himself back to reality.

At this particular moment reality turned out to be sitting in the passenger seat of his Impala wearing nothing but a rough woolen blanket while his brother drove. Dean felt muzzy, disconnected, out-of-it, whatever, but he still noticed the clench of Sam's jaw and decided silence was the better part of valor. Or maybe it was the coward's way out. Either way no way in hell was Dean up to dealing with one of his little brother's moods. At least not until he got back in touch with his inner Earthly plane. That much decided, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open just enough to peer through his lashes.

Okay, so what had happened? They'd been hunting. Not helpful. It always started with a hunt. So which hunt had this one been? The headlights shown on a sign announcing they'd reach Crawfordsville in another twenty miles. Crawfordsville what? His brain cells started firing again and he began to remember. Iowa. They'd been after one of four Phalan demons out to reproduce – which involved parasitic-eggs that made the host's gender irrelevant. They'd already cut the heads off of two of them before tracking the latest one down. Time was a factor, but they were never that hard to find. The demons had a taste for virgins and pseudo-religious mumbo jumbo. Track down a cult appealing to the young and nubile and one swing of an axe later it was all over.

Except this time they hadn't made it before the virgins had assembled and the fake rituals had started. They'd managed to scatter the kids before the Phalan could implant any eggs, then … it got kind of hazy after that, but he remembered one hell of a hot kiss despite the slime. A good guess could fill in the blanks, and … well, damn.

He shifted slightly, then gasped at the jolt of pleasure sizzling through his body. Fuck, he'd gotten a good jolt of demon-pheromone all right. And worse, the confines of the car let even the soft sound carry and clue Sam in that his brother was no longer blissfully asleep.

"I do not fucking believe you!" Sam shouted.

Dean would have cringed but he so did not want to get another jolt. "Sammy –"

"Don't you Sammy me! How could you be that freaking stupid?"

This time he did cringe and he flat out moaned. Softly, but no denying it was a moan. Fuck. It would take days for this to wear off. Longer depending on how far things got before Sam dealt with the demon … "You did take care of it, right?"

Sam gave him an utterly disgusted look. "No thanks to you."

Dean reminded himself that strangling Sam would require moving. Not to mention strength he didn't currently have. He sighed instead, then gasped when the car hit a bump. He grit his teeth against another wave of pleasure with nothing to do but zing up and down his nervous system. "Can we please just stop?"

He had a bad few moments when he thought Sam might decide to let him suffer, but his brother took the next exit and a few minutes later they were parked in front of a motel. Sam disappeared for a few minutes to check in while Dean dealt with the fallout from the car changing directions and stopping.

His senses were still reeling when Sam got back into the car, then moved it round back to park in front of one of the room doors. This was not going to be fun. Dean tried to stand up even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. His body was trapped in some sort of pre-post-orgasmic state. He had the sizzling pressure of impending release and the boneless lethargy of the aftermath of a really spectacular orgasm. In other words, he wasn't going anywhere without help.

Sam knew it, too. He made a show of unloading everything from the car and carrying it into the room while Dean sat there thinking dark thoughts about his little brother's continued existence. Finally Dean was the only thing left in the car to unpack. With a grumble, Sam yanked open the door and returned his glare. "Fast is better," he said.

Dean knew that, but didn't answer. In one quick move Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him up over his shoulders. Dean had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as the movement and Sam's touch made the pleasure rocket through him to the point of pain. It went on forever, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he fought not to lose what shred of dignity he could still claim.

An eternity of hell later, he tumbled off Sam's shoulders to land on the bed. The impact should have pushed him over the edge into near madness, but the relief of getting away from the warmth of Sam's body had a calming effect and for one moment he felt almost normal.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"I'll live." Next few days would be hell, but he would live.

The concern evaporated from Sam's face and the anger returned. He folded his arms across his chest, scowling at Dean. "Now, what the hell were you thinking?"

"Sam-"

"Damnit, Dean! You walked into that room knowing you were a virgin!"

Dean flinched, then paid for it with a new wave of zinged nerves. "I'm not," he hissed back. "You know I'm not!"

Sam's thunderous expression didn't change. "I know you've had sex with women."

In that instant Dean knew it was utterly impossible to die of humiliation. His naked ass rescued by his little brother and outted all in the same glorious moment. Be a really good time for the proverbial ground to open up and swallow him whole. No such luck. "I'm not nubile and I'm not a pure virgin."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Which was fine as long as there were nubile, pure virgins in the room."

Yeah, there was that. Once they'd cleared the room, the demon had gone right for him. Damnit! Dean thought he'd taken care of this problem years ago.

Sam's manner softened. "Dean, you did know you were bisexual, didn't you?"

Shit. Guess he wasn't going to die of embarrassment either. "Yes," he muttered. Truth be told, he was probably more into men than women, although the few lovers he'd had were all women – knowing he couldn't have the aggravating brother who haunted his wet dreams, he'd tried to move on and not go for a substitute. The results had been less than spectacular for him, but he had a talented tongue and fingers, so he'd never had complaints even when … performance issues got in the way.

"And you've had sex with men?"

He nodded.

Sam gave him a shrewd look. "Did you actually come?"

Dean decided now would be an excellent time to stop answering stupid questions. Except that was an answer, too.

A loud exasperated groan rumbled from Sam's throat. "This isn't a fairy tale, you idiot! It doesn't count unless you enjoy it!"

Fuck. 99.9 percent of all demons, ghouls and spirits didn't give a damn about fun times for all, but the stupid Phalan occupied the fucking other .01 percent. They took great satisfaction from coaxing out that first orgasm. Dean had conveniently forgotten that in his never-ending quest to keep Sam out of trouble. He sighed. No way he was telling his brother that he'd slipped a guy $20 to take him in some sleazy alley. Nope, pass on that. He would have shrugged, but that was moving and nope, pass on that, too. "So it wasn't that hot. Would have counted with anything else." Okay, he was officially sulking. He had a right, didn't he? Stripped naked and almost ravaged by a demon in the presence of the baby brother he held responsible for his inconvenient virginal state who stood there insisting it was all Dean's fault and the worst part was Sam was right – yep, he had a right to sulk and then some.

Sam shook his head. "Okay, you stay here and sleep it off. I'll track down the last of the four."

"What? No way in hell you are going after that thing alone!" Damned things were a piece of cake when they were double-teamed, but one-on-one they were dangerous.

Sam didn't look too happy about the idea, but he shook his head. "You can't help. Leaving out the whole virgin bit, you can't move."

He gave the annoying brat his best scowl. "A trip to the local bar will fix both problems." He was so wound up right now he could have an orgasm with anyone or anything.

Sam rolled his eyes, then repeated, "You can't move."

"So go pick someone up for me! Hell, tell 'em you have a hot virgin needing deflowering and charge 'em $50 for the privilege."

Dean hadn't even known his brother's puppy face could twist into an expression of such utter moral indignation. "I'm not pimping for you!"

"Fine," he snapped, "I'll do it myself." Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up off the bed and got to his feet. Focusing his thoughts on getting somewhere to get laid, he managed to take two steps without collapsing. Sam chose that moment to grab him.

"Stubborn sonofabitch," Sam hissed, then attacked Dean's mouth with his own.

The little voice inside Dean's head tried to say stop! Baby brother, so not right! Fortunately Dean had a lot of experience with ignoring an inconvenient voice of reason and hummed happily as Sam did his best to remove Dean's tonsils with his tongue. Oh, Dean liked this. Liked the kiss, liked the roughness of Sam's clothing against his naked body and really liked the strong arms holding him so tightly.

He'd taken the deflowering idea literally in that alley years back because he could remain passive and get the damned problem taken care of in time to help his Dad go after a demon with a less picky definition of virginity. Didn't matter this time – any orgasm with a guy would make him spoiled goods as far as a Phalan was concerned – but damnit, he wanted Sam inside him. He'd decided to say as much when Sam released his mouth, except Sam didn't seem too anxious to do that.

Instead there was some moving around, some fumbling, tumbling sounds, then more moving, all while Sam kept kissing him. Dean's brain translated Sam holding him with only one hand now as a good thing, and moments later his patience was rewarded with the smell of hotel lotion and a slick finger sliding into his ass. With a soft cry, Dean came all over the front of Sam's jeans.

So mission accomplished, curse/spell/whatever broken, yadda yadda. Dean's brain short-circuited under the impulse to put at least the width of the room between his brother and himself while at the same time fighting the urge to kill Sam if he even considered stopping. Sam opted to end his silent debate by sticking a second finger up Dean's ass.

Okay, so his baby brother intended to fuck him. Dean decided he could live with that and went back to the soul searing kissing thing. And oh, yeah, the jeans had to go if Sam's tab A had designs on Dean's slot B. He reached his hands between them and dealt with the snap and zipper while Sam did some three-fingered dance inside him.

It made Dean hard and ready to go again. Guess there was nothing like a little demon-pheromone to help a guy with his recovery time and, unwilling to release Sam's mouth, he stated his demand for Sam to get on with it by shoving back against the talented fingers.

For once Sam followed orders and lowered Dean down onto the nearest bed. He withdrew his fingers, shoved his jeans down onto his thighs then pulled Dean's legs up over his shoulders. With another kiss he thrust into Dean's body and damn, that was sweet. Even better Sam launched into a hard, pounding rhythm that suggested a need to release some of the anger their misadventure had produced. Fine by Dean, who showed his enthusiasm for the plan by wrapping his legs around Sam's torso, then tightening them to indicate even faster and harder worked for him.

Of course, walking might become an issue come sanity's return, but what the hell, good sex was worth a twinge or two and this was _great_ sex. Still, neither could last long with so much stimulation and with a mutual howl into each other's mouths, they both came.

A few minutes later Dean carefully opened one eye and stared up at the ceiling. He was amazingly proud of himself for having the energy to open the eye and connecting with enough brain cells to identify the dirty beige thing over his head. Before he could even manage to open the second eye, his inner voice started up – he'd seduced his baby brother! How low, how vile, how sick – wait a damned minute. Before he could turn himself into an angst-ridden pile of goo, reason kicked in and informed him that a) he had been on his way out the door to find someone who was definitely not his brother to take care of the problem, b) Sam had known darned well the first orgasm had taken care of the virginity problem, but had kept going and c) if the trembling body resting against his was any indication, Sam had already beaten him to the pile-of-goo stage. Probably tormenting himself with some crap about taking advantage of Dean while under the influence of demon spit.

If Dean were a good person, he would have reassured Sam with soft words and admitted he'd wanted him for a long time and all that everything-will-be-all-right shit. A little too chick-like for Dean's tastes, especially given his macho-mojo might be a little dented given he'd just had his ass fucked and his downstairs brain was busy asking him when they could do that again. Nope, no girly stuff today. "So, baby bro, how long have you wanted to jump my bones?"

Sam groaned and buried his head against Dean's shoulder, which – given the circumstances was a fairly hilarious place for him to try to hide.

"Been warm for my form? Wanted to fuck my brains out? Do the horizontal mamba?"

He was getting close to running out of euphemisms when Sam heaved himself up enough to glare down at him. "Dude! Enough!"

Score! Sam out of a sulk without a single mushy word spoken. Damn, Dean was good. He rewarded his cleverness by giving Sam another hug with his legs. Sam got the message. "You're not mad?"

"Nope. Won't get that way either if you get that slice of heaven between your legs back in me as soon as possible."

That got him a kiss, then a long stare of utter adoration. Oh, please, spare him the hearts and flowers, they loved each other and they liked fucking each other. Could they please move on? "You are so gorgeous," Sam sighed.

Shit. "Been telling you that for years."

"And such a jerk."

He grinned. "That I am, Sammy. That I am."

"Don't call me Sammy," his brother said with a soft growl, then went back to kissing him.

"Hey, I let you set up house inside my ass, I get to call you whatever I want," he protested when Sam shifted his lips down to nuzzle Dean's neck.

Sam lifted up to look at him again.

Dean let his dignity slip enough to let all the things he wasn't saying show in his eyes and God knew Sammy had never been able to keep his emotions off his face. All in all it was a fairly sickening display on both their parts.

A grin spread across Sam's face. "Deal."

Ah, thus endeth the sappy portion of the program. "And, dude, you are wearing way too many clothes," he said tugging at Sam's shirt.

Sam shook his head, then stood up and began stripping off his clothes. Show got them both hard again and let's have a second round of applause for those demon-pheromones. Or was it long-repressed lust finally let out to play? Either way Dean would be so far down the road of not-a-virgin-land by morning that he wouldn't be able to walk without a limp. 

He grinned, shifted over onto his belly and lifted his hips. Sounded like a plan to him.

end


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